The Lesser One: Chapter 14: A True Adventurer

A True Adventurer

Construction at the CCC lab goes as I expected for the two hours I was there. I was given an assignment to practice conjuring the same piece of alloy at least ten times a day to improve my accuracy. Because I ask, Alexia names my new alloy “Rearden Metal.”

Life goal achieved!

Alexia also mentions that he would like to do further research on the Rearden Metal alloys—up to and including a master’s thesis. Alexia is a graduate student, after all. I agree and leave him with a small amount of each of the three alloys I produced.

I spend the rest of the day practicing my bow work, being studied by Dr. Barrimore, and working on my conjuring accuracy.

That night I have another dream featuring my army of devils.

Jirgrar approaches me in the same fashion as before, wearing a suit, surrounded by video-gamey houses. He bows before me.

“Myself and my fellow arch-devils have devised a plan to serve you better. If you would allow a number of us into society to make the world a better place for you, we would be willing to do anything to further your glory and renown.”

“Er, what kind of things are we talking about?”

“As you are aligned with the side of good, we cannot take any actions that would smear your honor. However, there are many things that we can do to earn you fame, wealth, and success that will not cause you any moral pain.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say. I honestly feel afraid letting a bunch of devils out into the real world—I do trust Jirgrar’s statement, but I don’t know what the effects really would be.

“Very well,” says Jirgrar. “We have devils who can do many things. Profitable things.”

“How about this,” I say. “You and five other devils can leave and do your thing in the world for a week. After that I want a full report.”

Jirgrar bows his head. “As you command.”

And then the dream ends. When I wake up, Jirgrar and five devils are standing around my bed like butlers. All of them bow at once.

“We shall be on our way,” says Jirgrar. Two of the devils disappear into smoke. One walks through the wall. The other two leave using the front door.

Jirgrar remains. He bows like a butler. “I shall safeguard your fame, your finances, and your reputation.” Then he sinks into the floor.

I am feeling nervous about this whole setup, but if these devils can do things for me, then at the very least I will be in for something interesting. I stay in bed a little while longer and then get up. A slip of paper pops into existence on my nightstand.

I have acquired a cellular phone. My number is XXX-XXX-XXXX.

Well. I put the number into my phone and shoot Jirgrar a text—an action that makes me feel exceedingly strange.

Me: This is my number. Are you going to keep me updated through text?

Jirgrar: For small updates this is a good system.

I shrug, and place my phone back in my pocket.

There is a knock at the door. I open it and look out. It’s Evan.

“Hey, Markus,” says Evan. “Looks like the Riding Valkyries have a dungeon to crawl today. Meet in the staging area at eleven.”

Classes are canceled on dungeon crawl days for the members of the specific guild called to clear them. I get dressed and head towards the elevator. As I am walking through the hall, I see one of my devils, dressed as a janitor. He makes eye contact with me and nods.

I pass him without doing more than acknowledging him. If the devils can infiltrate this building’s staff as fast as that, I wonder what kind of other stuff they can do. There are only six out there and I have two hundred and forty-five left inside me.

Crazy.

I meet Mr. Tuffman and the rest of the Riding Valkyries in the staging area of the Association HQ. It’s a lot like a bus garage or the room of a fire station. Lots of equipment is racked up on the grey concrete walls. Two big garage doors are fitted onto the street side.

The association buses are parked along one side of the room. Today we are taking it—we usually take it about half of the time, depending on how far away the portal is. This one is at least ten miles away, in the suburbs.

I climb on board, behind Sarah and the thief, Mary. Before I can get up the steps, Mr. Tuffman stops me. I step out of the bus.

“Markus,” says Mr. Tuffman. “We have fitted you with some armor and given you the designation of damage-per-second. We’ve also brought your bow from the shooting range.” He motions towards a series of racks that hold light armor and my trusty bow. There are no arrows.

I put on the armor. Since it is of the light class, it doesn’t take much to put it on. I’m done before the rest of the guild has boarded the bus. Carrying my strung bow, I sit down in the middle.

We start moving after a couple minutes. The trip to the location of the portal is uneventful. Soon I am standing in front of a rather large D-class portal that has appeared in the middle of a white picket fence grass lawn. The owners of the house and the residents of the street have been evacuated, and the adventurer support team is keeping traffic out.

This time I am standing with the adventurers, not the apprentices. I form an arrow in my hand and keep it close to my bow.

Mr. Tuffman stands before the group and holds the usual strategy talk. Since I am one of the adventurers, I get to participate.

“Markus,” says Mr. Tuffman. “This is your first actual crawl as an adventurer. We know your stats are now higher overall than any of us. In fact, if you had been this powerful from the beginning, our guild would have neve been able to recruit you. Despite this, I want to put you in the back where we usually put new adventurers. Is this okay?”

I nod. “It’s fine. I’m in no hurry.” In this position, I am only one or two steps above my previous place as apprentice. However, this position has room for advancement if I show my worth.

The strategy meeting continues for fifteen minutes. It’s routine stuff, and I don’t play a large role. All I am told to do is take whatever shots present themselves. My anima vision will help with this for sure.

We enter the dungeon at 12:30 pm. The dungeon theme this time is a graveyard with a medical twist. The enemies will be ghost and undead type. Crypts rise out of the ground, covered in used hypodermic needles, medical equipment, and bones. Dried blood spatters cover all the stone surfaces.

A crowd of clattering skulls approach from the front.

“Contact!” yells Mary.

The team’s two DPS members form up. I stand between them. Mr. Tuffman throws up a “gel shield—” his spirit is an organic molecule that forms tight floating barriers.

The skulls split into two streams, going around the gel shield.

I knock an arrow and fire at an approaching skull. The arrow strikes it right in the forehead. The skull explodes into bone dust.

“Brandon would love this dungeon,” I say, under my breath.

“Hm?” says Fera, one of the DPS members bedside me.

“Nothing,” I say. I knock another arrow.

The skulls split into three streams and flow around the gel shields that Mr. Tuffman is throwing up.

Gilly—a multi-class—and Jesus—a marksman—move to counter the skulls.

I fire another arrow and blow another skull to pieces. There are still at least two dozen, and they are getting closer.

One skull flies straight at me. Before I can knock an arrow, Turner—another DPS—shoots it out of the sky.

I dodge flying pieces of bone.

Gilly throws out an AOE spell. At least a dozen skulls go up in a pillar of flame.

The rest of them back away, and then disappear into the graveyard hills.

Bismark, the technician, goes into action and starts sucking up all the skulls’ spirit rings. These skulls can’t be more than twenty years old. Essentially, they are trash circles, good only for industrial purposes.

We proceed further into the dungeon, shooting down trash mobs and hoovering up their spirit circles and item drops. Since I’m no longer a porter, I don’t have to carry anything. I don’t even have to carry arrows—I can shoot as many of them as I want. I suppose that is why I was assigned “damage per second” instead of “marksman.” An ordinary bow user would be assigned to the marksman role, as their limited arrow count would keep them from shooting at everything as fast as possible.

I’m pretty happy with how things are turning out.

We reach the boss room without breaking any records, but still maintaining respectability. The boss room is a gigantic crypt surrounded by a fairy ring of gravestones.

“Here we go!” says Mr. Tuffman. He steps into the zone.

The crypt explodes into a mass of stone shards. A gigantic bull skeleton rises out of the ashes, its bones clacking with angry menace. Two dozen small skeletons rise out of the graves surrounding the crypt.

“Fera!” yells Mr. Tuffman. “Take Markus and handle the minions!”

Fera looks at me. I nod. We begin to shoot at the minion skeletons. I fire an arrow at the point my anima vision tells me to. I make two, then three and then four kills.

One skeleton pops out of the ground behind me. I turn around in surprise and jam an arrow into its jaw.

The skeleton clamps the arrow shaft with its teeth, its eyes filled with infernal blue fire.

I push the skeleton away, trying to put an arrow to my bow.

The skeleton snaps the arrow in its mouth and grabs me by the shoulders. Its clattering mouth hovers inches from my nose.

A hammer smashes the skeleton’s skull and sends fragments flying. It is Gilly.

“Thanks,” I say.

Gilly swings her hammer in a circle. “That’s what I’m good for, right? Smashing things up.”

I form a steel dagger out of my anima matter and store it in my belt. I’m not making the mistake of not having a close weapon again.

At least a dozen minion skeletons remain. I shoot arrow after arrow, each missile hitting its exact mark—the spot where my anima vision tells me to shoot.

The minion skeletons are soon gone. The gigantic bull—the size of a house—continues to rampage through the graveyard. We haven’t had any casualties yet, but at this rate we won’t keep getting lucky.

I fire a dozen arrows as fast as I can. Even hitting the boss’s vitals, the arrows don’t do much good. Fat DPS I am.

Bismark signals the group. “We’re almost done! Keep pushing!”

Mr. Tuffman forms a gel shield in just the right place. The bull skeleton stumbles, driving its horns into the ground. Gravestone particles fly everywhere.

I continue to shoot my arrows. The bull tries to get up.

Gilly swings a final hammer blow and crushes the bull’s skull. Bone shards fall to the ground, tinkling.

The monster is dead. The atmosphere becomes chilly.

“It’s yours,” says Mr. Tuffman, to Gilly.

Gilly sits bedside the skeleton in a meditative pose. “Oh, god of the hammer, I ask you to imbue me with the power of my conquest …”

A large ring, probably around two hundred years old, lifts out of the dead skeleton monster’s body and surrounds Gilly. It snaps into her chest, leaving behind a snow of falling particles. Gilly stands up. She flexes her fingers.

Mr. Tuffman turns to the apprentices, who have been waiting outside the boss zone.

“We’re done,” he says. “Pick up the items and let’s get out of here.”

My first dungeon crawl as an adventurer has been successful.